Obsession
by Doomed-Kelpie
Summary: Ever since the fall, he can't stop thinking about it... (TRIGGER WARNINGS: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, SELF HARM, DRUG USE)


**Obsession**

 _Hey everyone! It is I, the Squirrel! I changed my username because my younger siblings found out my username and I don't want them reading some of my fics, considering how dark most of them are._

 _Anyway, this is my first Sherlock fic! Yay! (… Or, since this one is dark as hell too, maybe not so yay…)_

 _TRIGGER WARNINGS: (SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, SELF HARM, DRUG USE)_

XXX

Ever since the fall, it had become his obsession.

He didn't know why he couldn't stop thinking about it or why he couldn't delete it. He just couldn't.

He was obsessed.

With suicide.

It wasn't even that he actually wanted to commit suicide. He was just inexplicably drawn to the idea. Even he had trouble explaining it. Was it because of something in his childhood? Was it because of his and Mycroft's rocky relationship? Was it because so many people hated him? Although he would never admit to not knowing, he truly couldn't figure out what reason or combination of reasons drew him toward those dark thoughts.

Of course, he didn't do anything about those thoughts while he was destroying Moriarty's network. He was too busy, there wasn't time for them. But now that he was back, and things had started to settle down, Sherlock found that he had enough time to contemplate the subject more.

He already knew so much about it, since suicide was no stranger in life of helping out the Scotland Yard. And yet, he had never been so focused on it until he had almost done it. Granted, he clearly had no real intention of dying, but… the process had soothed him somehow. It made him feel less… Bored? Sad? Frustrated? Once the initial high went down, he almost missed that feeling of being seconds away from death.

Already having a previous addiction to drugs, Sherlock knew where to get them, and he still had the urges to do so anyway. He knew the right dosage. He could inject just enough to feel the relief again without actually killing himself.

XXX

When he awoke, he didn't open his eyes. He knew where he was. Considering he had just injected himself with barely less than the deadly amount of drugs, it was quite obvious that he would end up in a hospital. He knew either Ms. Hudson or John must have found him. He knew they would, but he somehow couldn't bring himself to regret it, even though he knew the conversation that would take place shortly.

So, with a mental sigh, he forced his eyes open.

As expected, John was sitting next to his hospital bed, looking absolutely distraught.

Sherlock felt something tug at his heart, but he quickly pushed it away, deep into his mind palace.

Once John had realized that Sherlock was awake, he of course started yelling and crying at Sherlock, telling him how reckless he was being and the stupidity of doing drugs again. Sherlock merely listened to John before telling him it was a small relapse and wouldn't happen again, for he knew that the real answer would be even worse to him than just being on drugs.

XXX

Of course, Sherlock had to get clean after that so he could work on cases again. He forced himself to do it, since he couldn't bear to lose one of his only purposes in the world.

But his obsession never stopped.

Drugs were now out of the picture, but Sherlock was obviously intelligent enough to find a new alternative.

XXX

No one noticed this method for quite some time. For a while, he would just let the scalpel glide across his skin, dripping blood everywhere. Many times, he would black out for a bit, but be able to clean up the blood before anyone saw. He already wore long sleeves anyway, so it's not like anyone could notice the tell-tale signs of his odd wardrobe. They were already used to it, and therefore, never questioned it when Sherlock continued to wear long sleeves on even the hottest of days.

It was John who found out first.

He had entered the flat that he had previously shared with Sherlock, intending to invite him to his house for dinner.

He found Sherlock passed out in a pool of his own blood.

XXX

This time, when Sherlock awoke, he felt twice the amount of dread as he had before. Nonetheless, he knew he couldn't pretend to be asleep forever, so he slowly opened his eyes to see he was in the same hospital. All of his friends, family, and acquaintances were in the room.

John didn't get angry this time.

He just cried, begging Sherlock to tell him why he would do something like that, pleading for Sherlock to let him help.

But this time, Sherlock couldn't offer any kind of an answer at all.

Because he knew that when the first thought that went through his mind as he woke was disappointment that he wasn't dead, he finally admitted to himself the true reason for his obsession.

XXX


End file.
